Distraction
by Gabbyv23
Summary: After having a strange dream, Bakura can't seem to stop thinking about Marik- no matter how hard he tries to.
1. Dream

I cannot dream, but sometimes I can pretend to dream. I don't remember dreams, but I do remember nightmares… The dream I had, if you can call it that, was of Marik being dead. He was bloody and broken and scarred all over. It wasn't my fault. There was no cause of it that I can remember. It was shocking and it was painful. I woke up in a cold sweat and… he was still here, asleep.

He was not smiling. His chest rose and fell with his breaths and his mouth was slightly open. I was relieved that he was there, but I was frightened that I could be afraid. I was scared that I could be afraid of something outside of failure. I was scared because I noticed… that he meant something to me.

I slid back down in the bed and took an experimental breath. I don't have to breathe, but I figured if I was already feeling alive there wasn't any harm to do it as a sort of stress relief. I licked my lips and thought hard about it, and maybe I thought too hard. I felt like I wanted to cry.

I held that in, and I turned to him and pulled him to my chest, carefully like fragile glass. He felt my arms apparently, because he shifted in his sleep and stretched. I closed my eyes and pretended again to sleep.  
"Ba… Bakura?"

I remained silent and still, trying to pass it as his imagination that I moved at all.

"Hmm…" He turned and held me as well, using my shoulder as a headrest. "Goodnight…" He already said that before he went to sleep, it was a little ridiculous for him to repeat himself. He hugged me tight like I were a stuffed toy and yawned a bit.

Maybe I was more than just a partner to him, but a friend too. How many friends did the boy even have? He must feel so lonely. That loneliness reminded me of my own, even if on most days I did not feel it. Everyone I ever cared about is dead. I would be dead as well if there were not dues to pay.

This could of been destiny if I believed in it. I would not tell him. Maybe I wouldn't need to. It was far beyond friendship to me. I remained quiet for the rest of the night. In the morning he didn't even notice that for a moment, my lips were on his forehead.


	2. Friend

It was all but forgotten the days ahead. The thought wouldn't plague his mind, but, it plagued mine. I'd catch myself staring into space when I should have been listening to him speak. I couldn't think straight for once. Often, when distractions present themselves, I would have no trouble focusing back on my goal. This, however didn't seem to be one of those times. It was such a rookie move it made me sick to my stomach.

"Bakura? Bakura! Are you listening to me?" he'd call and I'd jerk my attention back to him startled confusion. "Huh? What? Yes! Yes I was you said… uh… something about our strategy?" He'd give me this pout and shake it off, but this time he insisted. "Bakura, what is wrong with you?"

I looked at him, at his perfect violet eyes and pretty lips and… no. I swallowed and shook my head. "Nothing. Nothing at all. But, there has been something on my mind."

"Yeah? Well? What is it!?" He puffed out his cheeks in frustration and put his hands in his pockets.  
"I…" I looked around and bit my lip. Oh fuck being coy, I'm an actor and a thief for pete's sake! My eyes returned to him. "I'm finding that our partnership is not working out. I'm afraid we are going to have to part. It was nice working with you, Marik."  
His eyes widened and he gasped. "N… Bakura!" His pout then returned. "What do you MEAN it wasn't working out? This was perfect! We were so close to defeating the Pharaoh! Why would you quit now!?"

"I never said I was quitting! I said I was leaving you. If that means competition, I don't care. This isn't working and it's not going to. Don't take it so damn personally!"

At that he grabbed my collar and pulled me closer to glare at me, teeth bared. I caught his wrist, but I didn't pull back. He snarled at me, but then… sighed and let go. "I thought… I thought we were friends."

"I don't have friends and I don't need them either, quite frankly. Sorry if you ever came to that con…"  
There he went again, tugging at my heartstrings with his own batch of misery. My words fueled his heartbreak and he had the look of an abused animal, not of temporary sadness, but the kind that didn't seem to ever leave. Fuck. That's when I felt truly weak…

"…clusion… Nevermind. Forget it. Forget everything I just said."

Then he looked at me in confusion. He butt his head into my chest and he… he told me that…

"I love you…" Three words muffled into the fabric of my shirt. Still I heard it as clear as if it were spoken otherwise. His arms wrapped around my waist and he squeezed tight. He rubbed his face against my chest and let out a sigh that looked as if he has been holding the breath in all week.

I said nothing.

He looked up for a moment to see if I would say anything, but quickly returned. I couldn't tell whether or not he expected it, or wanted it to be said. I didn't know to be caring. I forgot how. I did however, like a lot of things, know how to pretend. I took his face in my hands and kissed his forehead, just as I did the night before.

He smiled. I guessed it meant he was just fine with that. Still I was unsure if he meant romantic or otherwise, but it didn't matter. I took false comfort in the fact that I made him feel safe, though I wasn't safe. I was dangerous, dark and twisted and intangible, yet he kept me here like I was warm. He kept me here like my existence meant anything other than unfinished business. He loved me.

That love was a greater burden than I had ever faced before. I kept it though, out of interest more than anything. I kept it out of selfishness.

My words never matched or mirrored his, because it wouldn't have meant anything. Even lies had to mean something, and that too would be useless.

Yet somehow some mornings he'd muse that I had said it in my sleep…


End file.
